


Smells Like Teens in Spirit

by shikaku28



Series: Roserunning [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikaku28/pseuds/shikaku28
Summary: Tommy and Quentin meet and hit it off terribly just like all their other closest friends.This isn't how it would go if they met, but I can dream.
Relationships: Quentin Quire/Tommy Shepherd
Series: Roserunning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861402
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Smells Like Teens in Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Time to get really passionate about ships that appeal to just me again. I've been on a Quentin kick so there might be more to this who knows.

"I'll have to admit!" Quentin yells over the music of the club, the loud thoughts and loud bodies only fueling his desire to keep moving, "Didn't think you could hang Speed. And I don't usually admit when I'm impressed. You should take the compliment."

Tommy had refused the telepathic communication. They'd only just met after all and 'at least buy me dinner first.' "Oh please," Tommy shouts back, "Most people can't keep with me. Takes a lot to keep me interested. You think you can go all night?"

His face is smug, way too cocky. Quentin's not used to a match for his ego, but he'll be damned if he won't welcome the challenge.

It was pushing 2 am. They'd been at this for a couple hours, but they've been hanging out since earlier that day. Teddy finally nudging Billy out of the house, the remnants of their little Young Avengers team met up with Kate's new West Coast Avengers group to catch up. Tommy couldn't pass up a chance to see Kate again, or take a field trip to California- though he nearly drew the line at Noh-Varr. Mostly joking. When he gets there he sees the Kree staring off into space as usual and decides to harass him, something he's very good at. He's beat to the punch by some floaty pink haired bitch.

He slides to a stop in front of his roach- emphasis on his- cutting into the conversation rather unceremoniously. "Long time no see dude-" he starts to nudge him but is brushed aside by whoever this prick is.

"Excuse you. I was trying to have a conversation," Quentin sneers looking personally affronted. "You can wait your turn-"

Tommy opens his mouth to argue, shoot back some snide remark, but he's still talking.

"Right. Waiting's not what you do. Is that what you were gonna say?" There's an arrogance in his voice that makes an instinctive anger rise in Tommy's already heightened blood pressure. Like Noh-Varr but worse.

"Hey Kate," Tommy calls over, thumbing in Quentin's direction, "Who's this loser, he looks like I should shove him in a locker."

"Be nice Quentin!" comes Kate's halfhearted intervention, and Billy's reactive yell of "Tommy!" just for good measure, but the growing headache is already evident.

" _ Anyway _ , as I was saying to my  _ dear _ friend Noh-Varr here-"

"Thomas, you never really cared for my presence," Noh supplies oh so helpfully. Quentin grows more smug still, if it's even possible, but Noh furthers, "Quentin you were never so eager for my company either."

From a few yards away Billy keeps a subtle eye on Tommy now that he's already back on his bullshit and instigating another fight. With another hothead no less. He's well versed in Quentin Quire, Kid Omega, Ex-X-man and notorious firestarter in more ways than one. "Oh no…" he mutters, anxiety spiking. Their yelling is growing louder now and Noh-Varr is still standing much too close, not bothering to diffuse the situation.

"Oh god this was such a bad idea I should have known he and Tommy wouldn't get along," Kate groans, wondering why she ever trusted Quentin to let anything go right. But Billy shakes his head.

"No Kate, that's the problem," Billy pushes his hands through his hair, already stressed. "They're getting along great." Kate starts to question just what he thinks he's talking about, but he merely shakes his head and tells them to wait for it.

"-I don't know where you think you get off acting like you know shit! You got a big mouth for someone in punching distance!"

"I know more shit than your flighty attention challenged ass could read in a day! You can't even afford to touch me!"

That's the drop that broke the dam, Tommy swings for Quentin but his fist only meets a pink psychic barrier and a Quentin hiding behind it looking proud to have goaded him into the first punch. With a swipe of his hand Tommy's thrown backwards, but he doesn't stay down there long. He's back up and charging, this time faking a frontal attack and hitting him from behind. Quentin grunts and falls forward into his own construct, which he quickly morphs into a weapon to swing at Tommy. He hits a wall this time and groans, getting up to see Quentin in a pink bubble.

"Get out here and fight me bubblegum!" 

"I don't have to bitchsilver! Not when I can do this!"

Tommy tries to take a step but he can't. Instead he punches himself in the face. Hard enough to make him stumble back. Quentin laughs but it's quieted by America's intervention.

" _ Both _ of you need to calm your asses or I'm knocking you flat on 'em." She lands between them hard enough to crack the ground. They each scoff in turn, but shrug it off meeting in the middle now that tensions have dropped significantly. 

"I'm Tommy."

"I know. Quentin."

"Could've guessed."

"Drinks?"

"Shitty apology."

"Not apologizing."

"Good."

And then they're gone.

Kate blinks after them. "What just happened?" Billy just rubs at his temples. "I'll bet you 20 bucks something blows up in…" He checks the time on his phone "3 hours."

"Tommy deserves  _ some _ credit at least give him 5."

"With Quentin? I'd give them thirty minutes."

And that's how the two most destructive personalities on the west coast ended up super terrorizing California tourists by day and clubbing by night.

(For the record, Billy won that bet but by Price is Right rules since it took 37 minutes for Quentin to find out Tommy could blow shit up and they used that knowledge to make the biggest wave the beach had ever seen.)

They mostly spent the day walking around, talking, playfully shit talking their friends and laughing at people in passing. Vaguely malicious but ultimately harmless pranks that you can get away with when you have super speed and super psionics.

They stopped at a hot dog stand where Quentin tried to buy as many hotdogs as Tommy could eat without throwing up- but stopped at 50 realizing streetside hot dogs aren't exactly the food choice when you  _ don _ ' _ t _ want someone to throw up.

"Does that count as buying you dinner?" Quentin grinned as they leisurely crossed the street.

"50 shitty hot dogs? How easy do you think I am? If you want inside this brain, you're gonna have to earn it pink panther."

"Please," Quentin only scoffs in reply, rolling his eyes. "You'd spread your legs for less." That earns him a forceful nudge to the side but it was well worth it. "Besides I spent 150 bucks at that stupid stand, you're not exactly a cheap date."

"Stay outta my head Quire. Besides, I was promised a drink. I'd let you into my pants before I let you into my brain."

"I'd use it more than you would." This time when Tommy goes to hit him his fist hits a psychic shield. "Don't get mad at me dude your brain is so loud it's like a hornet's nest and I'm standing right next to it. I don't have to read it to know that it's going 5 thousand miles a minute and none of the thoughts are sticking."

"A hornet's nest you should know better than to kick." Tommy shakes out his hand and keeps walking. He'll get him later.

"That'd be no fun." The sly look catches Quentin's eye again and Tommy couldn't help but wonder what went on in his head too. 

Fortunately Quentin was way quicker to speak his mind. "I did say drinks. Let's go drink. My place should be opening up soon anyway. All mutants. You're in." The last comment wasn't a question. As if Tommy would reject. "Lead the way Doc."

The hour had been charged with the need to show off and impress. Drinking contests, pointed flirting, ever increasingly physical dancing. Both Quentin and Tommy practically peacocking for the other's approval. Finally they just slumped against each other at the bar, neither wanting to admit that they were a slight shift away from falling over.

"Yanno," Tommy slurs, humming as he gets used to Quentin's weight on him, "I… Being speedy is cool 'n all. Metabolism sucks ass. I'll be sober in like… an hour and I'm gonna have to deal with your drunk ass hangin' offa me." Tommy nudges him as if he's going to push him off. Quentin only throws more weight on him in retaliation.

"Yanno," Quentin unwittingly mocks him, "I coooould fix that. But nooooo  _ someone _ doesn't want me in their head. That's like… My whole thing. But no one like trusts me with… It's like I'm reading books all the time. I don't  _ have _ to, but I'm  _ really _ good at it. And I wanna know-"

Tommy waves a hand, absently swatting at his face as Quentin whines into his shoulder. "Dude I don't actually care."

"W-" Quentin's confusion is obvious as he looks over at the speedster.

"No man I don't fucking care what you see in there. You were just bein' an asshole about it so I had to give you a hard time. You've been like pouting all night," Tommy thinks it's funny but Quentin's not as amused. Neither of them are coherent enough to start a real fight about it so he lets the other just laugh it off. He's probably too far gone to have a real handle on his powers anyway, but Tommy brushes his face to get his attention.

"Can you… actually slow my metabolism down? Just for the night or whatever?"

"Hell yeah I can," Quentin answers without really thinking about it. He really could, but…

"Fuck yeah man. Gimme some time to make a few more…" He cups Quentin's face with both hands and grins, lopsided and mischievous, "Really bad decisions."

Okay, he really can't say no to that. With a bit of concentration, Quentin sits up and takes a deep breath, letting his eyes slide closed to concentrate on everything but the room spinning.

Tommy's mind is easy enough to pick out. Not only because of the proximity but because of how fast it moves. When he wasn't reading it, it  _ was _ similar to a hornet's nest. Buzzing and vibrating and begging attention. A box wrapped and shaking, fit to burst at any moment. But now that Quentin was here, it was more like a busy street. Actually that's exactly what it was. Tall looming buildings, packed impossibly close together. People rushing to and fro, all talking and chattering. Cars passing by at dangerously high speeds. Everything everywhere at once, he was getting claustrophobic just being here and the sensory overload was hitting him in ways he likely would have been more equipped to handle if he wasn't wasted.

"Enough," Quentin swipes his hands across and the resulting psychic energy kills the mental facade of a construct. That's all it is, an illusion to describe how Tommy's mind works. He's still just in a mind. A simple one at that. And he's looking for something that requires a bit more time and care to mess with.

If he's honest with himself, he's not entirely sure just  _ what _ he's doing. No one's ever exactly come up to him and asked him to slow their metabolism before. But he has an idea of how to do it. The root of his issue is the super speed, so he'll just turn it off for the night. No big deal.

When he finally opens his eyes, he worries he's been in there for the thirty minutes it felt like, but he hasn't even lost Tommy's attention. Which is probably some sort of achievement. "So?" he prompts. It's all he can really think to ask. 

"So what?" Tommy returns, he doesn't feel much different. At least not until the bartender slides him another shot, which he fails to catch so it slides right past him. "Oh… Shit." He's not sure whether to be confused or grateful, but it's technically what he asked for so he knocks back the shot and shatters the glass on the ground with a yell of excitement.

"Geez okay Talladega Nights you're gonna get us kicked out let's go." Quentin laughed. For a moment there's a nagging feeling, a twinge of guilt, maybe he shouldn't have done that. But he's far too drunk to care, and Tommy's having the time of his life. He did him a service, there's nothing to feel guilty about.

Especially not when they get outside in the cool night air and Tommy is pinning him against the wall to kiss him. His hands are gripping and tugging at clothes and his teeth bite harshly at his lips. Quentin falls in just as quickly, letting Tommy roughly shove underneath his shirt and feel along his sides and chest.

"Fuck I owe you for this," Tommy speaks, breath hotter than the destructive shots of burning alcohol he's been taking all night. Quentin shudders at the desperation of it all.

"Make it up to me right now, behind the bar?" he offers but Tommy just laughs. "I'm serious," but he's picking Quentin up in his arms anyway, wrapping his legs around his waist and moving to somewhere a bit more hidden. "Haven't been able to enjoy myself like this in a real.. really fucking long time." His panting breaths have started to slip into whiny moans and he pins Quentin against some shaded bricks just behind the bar they left. "S'other people I'd enjoy it with, but I'll take you I guess," he laughs, unable to keep  _ too _ heartfelt. Had to ruin the mood at some point. Quentin tsks and grabs his hair, pulling so he looks up at him. "Gimme your dick now and your sob story later."

"Fair enough," Tommy goes back to kissing, usually more practiced, but he's desperate and excited. Quentin doesn't seem to mind too much. He hisses a bit when Tommy splits his lip with a bite, but the speedster had already dipped to leave bruises and bitemarks all along his chin and neck. He sheds the shirt so Tommy can keep going and Tommy leaves soft moans with each one like he's burying a time capsule. His mouth trails lower and lower, getting particularly into darkening spots along his hips.

"You're a tease," Quentin shoves at his face and starts to shift his pants lower, a clear sign Tommy should fuck him already.

"You deserve it," He can't tell if that's meant in a good way or bad way. But it doesn't matter. Tommy's shoving two fingers in his mouth and he sucks accordingly, slicking them with as much saliva as he can give. Tommy watches with lidded eyes, almost getting too into the sight of Quentin sucking on his fingers. The digits tour his tongue, sliding in and out of his mouth pushing towards his throat. The telepath's apparently a fan of getting fingerfucked and whines and squirms beneath him. The only reason Tommy's concentration shifted back to fucking him was the ass rolling against his groin.

He finally slipped out of his mouth when there was a pleasing trail of saliva that followed from his lips. He quickly works on prepping his entrance, going right ahead with the two fingers and working him inside out.

"Fucking Christ Shepherd," Quentin groans gripping his shoulder and squeezing. Tommy doesn't mind, or maybe he doesn't notice, just continues working and scissoring Quentin open impatiently. "Fucking relax Q," Tommy grumbles but his grip only gets tighter.

"Someone's gonna hear us." Tommy doesn't sound too concerned about that, more amused really.

"Fucking lettem," Quentin snorts and Tommy leans up to kiss him again, "I'll put on a show."

"Yeah?" Tommy teases, "Hold that thought." Even slowed down he still bears little patience and takes an extra second to free his dick from his pants before sinking into Quentin eagerly. He cries out sharply, hands squeezing into his shoulders with a force and legs shaking. His head falls back to the brick where he doesn't find much comfort there either. In fact, the wall has been scraping against his back pretty uncomfortably- something he was willing to overlook for dick obviously.

"God I oughta fucking kill you for that," Quentin groans through deep breaths.

"I fucking told you to relax. 'Sides you won't even remember it, don't be a baby." Tommy waits until Quentin stops reeling from the pain before shifting slightly. When he gets a hum of approval he rolls his hips once and gets a noise of denial.

"What now?"

"Do  _ not _ fuck me against this wall I'm not wearing a fucking shirt."

"Fine I'll just put you on the ground then."

"Don't you fucking dare."

"Whatever princess," Tommy lifts him again, moving him away from the wall. The only other option was the dumpster behind them, so he starts to set him down. Quentin, absolutely insistent on not being fucked on the ground behind this underground bar, in a last ditch effort makes another psychic construct with his minimal concentration.

"An air mattress?" Tommy cocks an eyebrow, trying not to see it as the funniest thing in the world.

"I still have like… at least one standard. It's not being fucked on the goddamn ground."

" _ You're _ the one that wanted the alley-"

Quentin shuts him up with another kiss, silently instructing him to get back to work. Tommy likes his tone and obliges, rolling his hips forward again. This time Quentin lets him, encourages him even with a soft moan. Tommy leans in close, pounding away at him as the other arches against the makeshift bed. He's pinned by the shoulders but he can't quit squirming beneath him. His deep shuddery breaths fill the alley with whiny moans and soft calls of Tommy's name mingled with mixed profanity. 

Tommy's much quieter, only allowing small grunts to escape as he pounds into Quentin at an increasing pace. Most of Quentin's more lewd comments Tommy can hear in his head, dripping with pleasure and want and grasping need. Which of course makes them so much sexier. Sometimes he'd respond aloud with light encouragements, enticing him to continue to whine and squirm and beg.

It's not long before Quentin inhales sharply, legs wrapping tight around his waist as he warns he's close.

"What's up?" Tommy teases him thumbing at his lips with a free hand, "Couldn't quite hear you Q."

"I- fuck you- I'm close. Tommy I'm fucking close, please." He took the thumb in his mouth, sucking and biting down as he felt the heat building and threatening.

Tommy didn't slow for a second, fucking through his orgasm even as Quentin tightens around him. The telepath paints his stomach with a warm white mess, whiny moans turned to groans as Tommy kept up the pace. The resulting pressure brought Tommy over the edge as well, filling him with a warmth that quickly turns to gross discomfort.

They're both coming down from the high, Tommy quick to pull out and start cleaning up. He picks up the discarded shirt and uses it to mop up the worst of the mess. Quentin shoots him a lazy glare. "That shirt cost 200 bucks."

"Yeah well it looks better as a 200 dollar cumrag. Get up princess."

He only raises a hand, probably to hit Tommy with some kind of psychic backlash, but all it does is dismiss the mattress beneath him. He hits the ground with a forced "oof" and Tommy moves in to fix his pants and pick him up again.

"I hate this. Hate you. 2 out of 5 stars."

"Yeah whatever, didn't hear all that when I was buried in ya. Tell me that next time I'm rocking your bed."

"Next time? God you're still fucking horny?"

"Super speed Q. It does that. Which… I still don't have right now. I have to fucking walk you home don't I?"

"What a gentleman."

Quentin's drifting off to sleep, letting the booze and action make for a content lullaby. Otherwise his comments might be a bit more scathing. "Hey don't check out on me yet, where the hell am I taking your ass?" With one more handwave Quentin deposits a map in Tommy's head, which he receives with a soft "Oh." and carries Quentin back to his apartment.

With no speed to run back to New York, and positive Billy's checked out by now (also not interested in having a 'hey can you pick me up from my hook up's house' conversation) he curls up with Quentin still wrapped around him in bed. 


End file.
